Just Under the Upper Hand
by androgenius
Summary: Rachel and Jesse haven't spoken in years, but when an unfortunate accident occurs, all of that changes, Rachel reluctantly summoned to LA to help out, their histories inevitably bringing them back together once more. Featuring angry!bitter!Jesse.
1. Chapter 1

_Since Cris decided to be so damn awesome such as to instigate **St. Berry Week II**, I figured I'd throw one of my stories into the stack to make up for the ridiculous amount of fail that was last night's episode! I really hope you guys like it; I know this trope can be done very, very badly, so I guess we'll see if it lives up to standards!_

* * *

><p>"I can't today, Finn, I'm sorry. I have an appointment at the chiropractor at one and then I'm having dinner with my agent. Did you hear that they canceled my show? The only good that is coming of this is—"<p>

"We have more time to spend together now," he informed her brightly, and she frowned as she stepped inside the cab as it rolled to a stop by the curb.

"No, that other show I wanted to audition for. I have time for that now. But—"

"You know, you really should have told me that you weren't ever going to have time for your 'boyfriend' before we moved in together."

"Please can we not talk about this now? And I did tell you, actually, that's why we broke up after graduation."

"That was seven years ago!"

"Look, can I call you back? I have another call coming in."

"Fine."

Ignoring the tone on the other end of the line, she switched over to the other before taking a deep breath.

"Rachel Berry speaking."

"Ms. Berry, this may come as a shock to you," an older, male voice chimed, "but you are listed as the only emergency contact of a... Jesse St. James."

"_Jesse_? What?"

"I regret to inform you that he's been in a serious car accident."

Rachel felt her heart plummet as she listened to the voice on the other end. It might as well have been automated, it wouldn't have made a great deal of difference.

"Ms. Berry?"

"S-sorry. Um, where is he? I mean, what hospital are you taking him to?"

"Good Samaritan in Los Angeles."

"I'll catch the first flight out."

* * *

><p>She could have said that Jesse was the last person she'd thought to hear from, but then again, it hadn't been Jesse who had contacted her.<p>

For all she knew, two fifty dollar cab rides and an arduously wrought plane ride later, her stomach in knots, he would be dead by the time she got to Good Samaritan.

"How may I help you?"

"Rachel Berry, I'm here to see Jesse St. James. The paramedics—"

"Are you his family?"

"I— yes," she lied a second later, not bothering to think twice before answering.

"He's in the ICU right now. Take the elevator to the sixth floor and turn left after the doors open. The nurse's station should be right there for someone to assist you."

"— thank you," she breathed out, her words washing out in a single sharp breath, her lungs feeling as if they might constrict at any moment. The woman behind the counter didn't seem to care at all— she dealt with this sort of thing on a daily basis. Rachel, however, on her part, felt as unprepared now as she had when she'd first realized that she'd become an adult somewhere along the way. People always thought you were more mature than the others, that you were prepared for it, but no one ever really was.

She could only hope that it wasn't as bad as she kept picturing in her mind's eye, rounding a corner and nearly running into one of the nurses.

"— excuse me, I'm looking for, um. Jesse St. James."

"Would you mind taking a seat? I'll be with you in just a moment."

Rachel nodded, practically collapsing onto the bench as her eyes roamed over the numbers next to the doors, her stomach lurching. Jesse could be in any of these for all she knew, in any condition.

Forcing herself to sit still as her leg bounced fitfully atop its sister, Rachel finally fished her phone out, exhaling a slow, shaky breath.

Finn picked up on the second ring.

"Hey," she whispered, barely even recognizing her own voice.

"Rach, I thought you were going to call me right back. What's wrong?"

"It was an emergency. It's, um... a friend of mine who lives in LA got into a really bad car accident and I was... her only ICE."

"You're in _Los Angeles_? And you didn't even think to tell me?"

"Look, Finn, I really can't do this right now. I just wanted to let you know."

"Gee, thanks. So much for our anniversary, I guess. You know, I even made reservations and everything."

"That's tomorrow," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut. "Finn, I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you when I get back in town, I promise."

"Yeah, whatever."

If it was possible for her to feel any worse, she'd achieved it, tucking her phone back into her purse as the nurse approached. Sitting up straighter, Rachel scooted forward in her seat, one ankle tucked over the other.

"Jesse St. James?" She nodded. "Are you his wife?"

"N-no, I'm just a friend."

"Well, he's recovering right now. He's... not well. Stable. Sleeping right now."

"What happened? The paramedics didn't tell me anything on the phone."

"One of his legs is broken in two locations and we believe his optic nerve suffered considerable damage, but until he wakes up and confirms our suspicions, we have no way of knowing yet."

"I... I don't understand what you're saying."

"He may be temporarily or permanently blinded upon waking, there's no way for us to know yet. He was in a serious car accident. He was going fairly quickly, it seemed, and he was hit by a semi-truck that spun out of control."

"That's— that's impossible."

"Debris from car accidents can do that."

"But—"

"I can get you numbers of several good psychologists in the area."

"I wasn't planning on—" Looking up at the nurse, Rachel fell silence once more. "Does he have any other family in the area?"

"None that we know of."

"Oh."

All thoughts of Finn and her audition were viciously torn from her grasp as she realized how selfish she was being. Jesse didn't have— _anyone_, and here she was trying to figure out how to get away from him as quickly as possible.

"Um... when can I see him?"

* * *

><p>About two years ago, looking through recent productions in the LA area— which she would still to this day insist had absolutely nothing to do with Jesse— she'd recognized his face almost instantly, starring in <em>Evita <em>opposite some tramp that he was, more than likely, sleeping with.

This was similar, the familiarity of his features striking her temporarily silent as she moved to stand by his bed, taking his hand in hers.

"Jesse."

"... _Rachel_? What the hell are you doing here?"

"The paramedics called me. I'm your only emergency contact in all your records."

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'd forgotten about that."

"How are you?" Removing her hand from his, she took a slow step back from his side, remembering for the moment that she wasn't his family, his wife, his girlfriend, anything. She had no place here, least of all holding his hand.

"I'm waiting for them to take this damn bandage off my head so I can leave here already. It's not like I fractured my skull or something. I'm perfectly lucid. You can go home to... wherever home is. New York, I assume."

"Yes," she whispered, frowning, the door behind her opening.

"Can you take this off already so I can go home?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," the doctor muttered, dropping the pages of his chart to look at him. "You suffered a significant fracture. Even if this is all the damage you've sustained, you'll be walking out of here with crutches, and you will likely require the assistance of—" he looked at her.

"Ms. Berry."

"— to transport you once we'll be ready to let you go in a couple of days.

"A _couple of days_? What the—"

"Jesse, stop—"

"We'll find out, won't we?" the doctor interjected with a frown, reaching for the clasp holding his bandages together. "Now, let's see..."

Unwrapping slowly and gingerly, the verdict became clear much too soon for Rachel's liking, as if she'd known that it was going to happen, something in her gut aching horribly as she watched, wringing her hands.

"I can't see. Why the _fuck _can't I see?"

"The debris from your accident caused significant damage to your optic nerve. We tried to do the best we could, but there wasn't much we could do. There's a chance that it might be temporary and could heal itself. And while it _does _happen, I don't like to say that it's entirely likely."

"I'm— I'm _blind_. Is that what you're saying? What kind of bullshit doctor are you?"

* * *

><p>It had taken two hours and a decent dose of morphine to calm Jesse down and alleviate some of the pain in his leg, now in a decently-sized cast. On drugs, he was a lot more malleable to work with.<p>

After a short cab ride to his apartment, making herself as comfortable as she could manage without him there to make it any less awkward, she decided to focus on the paperwork of the situation.

It was a very welcome distraction from the hell she'd placed herself right in the middle of, something to focus on while Jesse was still in the hospital and she had to reluctantly break to a very angry Finn that previously mentioned _female friend_ just happened to be _Jesse St. James_.

It wasn't for another four days until she found herself begrudgingly wheeling him out to the cab she'd called for him, Jesse complaining every step of the way.

* * *

><p>"I've picked up your prescriptions," the bottles rattled loudly as they hit the counter, Rachel, from the sound of it, still rifling through her purse for whatever else charitable contributions she has to offer to his life, "your release papers from the hospital, fresh bandages on top of the ones they gave us at the hospital, the key to your new rental vehicle, since that's automatically covered by the insurance, given that the crash wasn't your fault... although I suppose it's technically <em>my <em>new rental vehicle right now, seeing as you're in no state to drive— I hope you don't mind that I parked in your spot— and some vegetables since I know how much you like to kill innocent beings, and obviously because I want to make you soup so you can start feeling better again."

"I didn't ask you to do any of this," he growled, Rachel already tearing at his patience.

"Except that you _did_ the second you decided that it was a good idea to put me down as your _only _emergency contact," she snapped back, offering a terse sigh. "Now, I canceled my flight back for the time being, but if you'd like me to leave, I would be more than willing so I might return to my own life—"

"Be my guest," he muttered darkly.

"— but as it seems, you don't have anyone here to help you in the first place, so I'm going to stay here out of the goodness of my heart. Unless you'd rather I call your parents?"

His silence was answer enough.

* * *

><p>If Jesse had been used to his affliction, that would have been different. But he wasn't used to going just off of sound, the things he could hear, and therefore, grabbing his cell phone and disappearing out into the hallway was downright easy.<p>

Still, she couldn't seem to stop her fingers from trembling as she scrolled through his contacts, frowning at all the girl's names in his phone. This was just _unrealistic_.

Finally coming upon an entry labeled _Virginia St. James_ with a soft sigh of relief, she pressed the _call _button.

Sixth ring. "_Jesse_?"

"Um, well, not quite. This is Rachel Berry, Mrs. St. James. You might remember me from when Jesse went to Carmel."

"Not particularly, no. Why are you in possession of my son's phone?"

"He's— he's been in a terrible car accident. He's lost his ability to see... completely. They don't know if it's temporary or permanent, but he really needs someone here, and I'm only here because the paramedics—"

"What is it that you need, money to take care of him? Is that it?"

"I— _no_. You're his mother. I thought perhaps you'd like to come see your son, take him home, take care of him, anything along those lines would be perfectly acceptable answers."

"I don't suppose you spoke to Jesse prior to choosing to call."

"Well, no—"

"I see. There won't be anyone coming. He can come to us if he chooses to, but that has never been his chosen course of action, and I can't say that it isn't for the better. Our schedules just don't agree with random flights of fancy to drop by."

"He's in no state to be traveling!"

"Would fifty-thousand be sufficient? I understand he wouldn't be working for some time, and neither would you."

"You're his mother! How could you care so little?"

"You must be misunderstanding me. I do care for Jesse quite terribly, just not in the most conventional of ways. Now, if you'll excuse me," Rachel could have sworn she heard her voice waver, "I have other business to attend to."

Rachel stared in shock at the phone as she heard the _beep _on the other end of the line, feeling as if all the breath in her lungs had left her all at once. There was something there that he hadn't told her, of that much she was certain.

* * *

><p>"Well," her voice rang out loudly and clearly, as it usually did, something hitting the counter with a thud, "I'm going to be staying with you for a while. Until you get better."<p>

"Don't you think your boyfriend is going to mind you shacking up with your ex?"

"Wh-what? How did you—"

"Rachel, has it ever occurred to you that I can hear every word you're saying when you're in the bathroom fighting with Hudson? You're not exactly what most people would call _conventionally quiet_," he growled, wishing he could see the look on her face.

"But— I mean— I thought you were asleep," she whispered, seeming to shift closer to where he was propped up on the couch from the sound of her voice.

"Well, I wasn't."

"Jesse, it's not like that—"

"Just go, all right?" he cut her off, one hand coming up on the armrest behind him as he pushed himself up, his good leg catching support from the floor as he moved to a shaky standing position. "I can take care of myself."

It was a blessing that he knew his apartment as well as he did, feeling his way to the kitchen and holding on to everything he could manage on the way.

Until his cast caught onto something that he hadn't been expecting in his way, Rachel's purse.

"Jesse—!"

Taking an unceremonious fall as his body seemed to crumble beneath the lack of support, Jesse groaned, pushing himself back up into a semi-sitting position.

"Oh my god," she muttered, close to him suddenly. He could smell her everywhere, it seemed. Pushing himself further up to get away from her and the intoxicating jasmine scent, he ran a trembling hand through his hair, hating himself for being so damn _weak_.

"I'm so sorry, Jesse, I-I didn't think you... were just— going to get up and start walking or I would have never put that there— are you okay? Is there anything I can do?"

"Okay, scratch that, I _would_ be more than capable of taking care of myself if _some_ people didn't leave their crap lying around in _my_ apartment. Please just leave, I don't _need_ you here, and frankly, I don't _want _you here."

It was a lie, of course. The fact that it had been _Rachel's purse _and not something else had happened on pure chance. That morning when he'd heard the shower come on, he'd awkwardly stumbled out of the bedroom, doing his best not to trip on the comforter Rachel was using to camp out on the couch, determined to get himself some cereal, just as he was used to doing every morning.

It had all gone just fine— though he'd picked the wrong cereal, not thinking to go by touch— until he'd attempted to pour the milk, half of it ending up on his hand.

That had been particularly frustrating, Jesse doing his best to mop everything up with the paper towels he'd then spent a good two minutes searching for.

"Don't be ridiculous, you— you can't do this on your own, Jesse. I understand that you— more than anyone— would hate to feel weak and vulnerable more than anything, but I'm not going anywhere, and you can't stop me."

* * *

><p>"I don't think I'm coming back for a while," she said quietly into the receiving end of her phone, holding her breath as she steeled herself for his response.<p>

"What do you mean you don't think you're coming back? Rach, you said you were going to be back in less than a week! I'm not letting that prick steal you away from me again, dammit!"

"Finn, _please_ can we talk about this like normal, rational people? Some things have changed, and I need to take that into consideration. Now, he needs my help, and as his _friend _I'm going to be there for him, just as you'd be there for Quinn if she needed your help because she got into a terrible car accident and lost her eyesight."

"This is totally different than that! He's... the enemy! And what the hell do you mean, _some things have changed_? What, are you already sleeping with him again?"

Silence rang clear on her end of the phone as Rachel bit her lip, fighting back choice words.

"We're _not _sleeping together."

"Whatever, Rach. I just thought you were better than this."

Hearing the _beep _that signaled that he'd effectively hung up on her, Rachel took a deep breath, snapping her phone shut as she moved to exit the bathroom. Guilt-tripping was Finn's specialty; had always been.

"Now what on earth would make Finnocent think that we were sleeping together, huh, Rachel?"

Jesse was sprawled out on the couch, looking as smug, cold, and calculating as ever, his head tilted up towards her. If she tried hard enough, she could pretend that it was because he was actually looking at her, though she knew that that was impossible.

"Does he know?" he continued when Rachel didn't answer, intent on preoccupying herself by cleaning the apartment. This was the last thing she wanted to be discussing right now, her heart twisting painfully in her chest.

"Wasn't that why you two broke up in the first place?"

Running into Jesse over the spring break of her senior year while UCLA was on break had either been the arguably best or worst thing to happen to her. What he was doing in a bar in _Lima _of all places he'd refused to tell her, but Rachel could admit that she'd had a fair hunch.

Finn, though her boyfriend at the time, had fairly refused to so much as make a move on her without explicit permission.

It was a weakness that Jesse knew exactly how to exploit, slipping his arm around her shoulders as if it belonged there. Easy. _Effortless_.

Guilt-ridden, she'd called Finn promptly the following morning to confess to him what she'd done, and more importantly, _with whom _she'd done it. She'd been drunk and stupid, and it had easily been the best sex of her life, despite the pain, despite everything.

Even now, after several sexual partners more, that had yet to change.

"I'd be worried if I were him, you know."

"Well, you're not him, so I don't see how any of this should concern you."

"Considering that that was the best sex I ever had, I'm _very _concerned."

Rachel flushed a bright shade of pink. She'd be lying, of course, if she were to claim that it didn't feel good to hear him say that, to know that the sentiment was returned, but on the other hand, she wished he'd never told her.


	2. Chapter 2

From day one, Rachel had insisted on sleeping on the couch.

Now, about a week since her arrival in Los Angeles, Rachel sincerely regretted her decision.

Jesse had refused her pleas for him to stay in bed all day, and after the fifth fall as he struggled to get to the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom— anywhere, really— Rachel had relented and agreed to let him stay on the couch during the day. I made him feel more alive, he'd said, and she wasn't about to argue with that sentiment.

The only downside to this new development, however, was that the couch was relentless in its persistence to hold onto the musky scent of Jesse with every day that he spent on it. He still smelled just as he had years ago, so distinctly like _him _that it became difficult for her to sleep at all. It wasn't enough that she wasn't already in his apartment every second of every day when she wasn't running errands for him, surrounded by Jesse no matter where she went.

It was that stupid hint of eucalyptus she occasionally would get the trail of whenever she turned her head too quickly only to realize he wasn't there, even back home in New York. He smelled like something clean, fresh out of the dryer, warm, comforting. It was everything that people would never assume him to smell like, and she hated it.

Jolted from her insomnia-driven thoughts at the sound of a loud _bang_, she shot up and off the couch, rushing into the bedroom to make sure Jesse was okay.

"Jesse, what—"

"Oh for fuck's sake," he snapped, propping himself up onto his elbows, "I can't even fall on my own without having you at my every beck and call? Just leave me the fuck alone!"

Groaning, he attempted to lift himself up, promptly slipping again.

"Jesse, please," she muttered, sliding her arm under his as he struggled to stand up. "You could have just told me what you needed."

"No," he ground out through clenched teeth, "I couldn't have."

"Did you— did you need to go to the bathroom, Jesse?"

"I need to piss, I don't think I could have just called for you to bring me a fucking bedpan."

"Come on," she sighed, supporting his body as he stumbled into the bathroom and onto the toilet, Rachel turning away despite the darkness and his inability to visually recognize the privacy she was attempted to offer him.

The hollow laughter seemed to echo around the walls of the bathroom, harsh and bitter. "This is pathetic. I'm never getting laid again, you know."

_ That_ was not a question she'd been expecting, her eyes wide as she fought to keep her gaze fixed on the wall. "Don't— don't say that."

"It's true. Who the hell fucks a blind guy? _Willingly_?"

"_Jesse_!"

"I'm allowed to ridicule blind people now, Rachel. If you haven't forgotten, I _am _one."

Rachel was quiet for a long moment, holding her breath as she watched the lights from the cars outside the window flicker on the wall. "What if I said I wanted to?" she whispered quietly, biting her lip. "Sleep with you, I mean."

"I wouldn't believe you," he muttered darkly as Rachel heard the flush behind her, her heart sinking in her chest for reasons she couldn't quite place, turning back to face Jesse, helping him back up and back to the bed.

"Goodnight, Jesse," she whispered from where she'd found herself lingering in the doorway. She could keep telling herself that she was watching to make sure he got to sleep fine, but that would be a lie, one that even Jesse could see through.

* * *

><p>"I'm sleeping in bed with you from now on," she informed him first thing in the morning, standing by his bed from the sound of it. He could picture her perfectly, arms crossed in front of her chest, jaw set, resolute. He wasn't sure if his memory of her wasn't worse than the real thing to imagine. She was far too beautiful in his head from all that he remembered. It was downright unrealistic.<p>

"No, you're not," he ground out, letting his head fall back against the headboard upon pushing himself into a seated position and letting his legs drape off the side of the bed. He could get up on his own. He wasn't too weak for this. _Refused_ to be.

"Jesse, don't be ridiculous. Had I not been riddled by insomnia myself, I would have never heard you fall. I'm sleeping with you from now on, and that's final."

"I think your boyfriend might have some objections to us fucking behind his back, Rachel," he drawled slowly, not daring to waver from the comforting lull inherent in his sarcasm, even if he _wished _that was what she'd meant. Hudson had always been a spectacular cockblock.

"That's— that's not what I meant!" Jesse couldn't help but wonder if the distinct sense of loss at not being able to see the blush creep across her cheeks would ever dissipate. He missed seeing her, even despite the familiar ache in his chest that always bloomed up from seeing her and knowing that he couldn't have her. "We're sharing a bed. That's _it_. This isn't... spring break again, Jesse."

"Rachel, you've made that _abundantly_ clear. I'm well aware that you're apparently so repulsed by me and your new, self-imposed, burning martyr-style need to _save_ me that you have trouble even so much as _considering_ to talk about what happened between us that night," he spat, resentment getting the better of him as he managed to move himself off the bed and leaning on the wall. He could make it. He didn't _need_ Rachel, of all people. Not before, and especially not _now_.

"Would you like some, um, breakfast?" she muttered, seeming to stumble over her words. She sounded downright ashamed of herself, and all his gut could internally respond with was _good_, as though she deserved it. It was a sickening feeling.

"No, I don't want breakfast, I want you to stop pretending that this is all on me! That you're too much of a coward to admit that you actually _liked_ fucking me despite the fact that you refused to answer _any_ of my texts, voicemails, and phone calls after it happened? Disappearing the next morning like nothing happened? No note, no message, _nothing_? Like I just _imagined_ all of it? I called you for _weeks_ and _nothing_!" He couldn't help the fist that slammed against the wall, aching horribly upon impact.

"I know," she whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry, Jesse."

"And just so that I can set the record straight here, I didn't even _remember_ putting you down as my ICE, so you can stop holding that over my head like I'm the only person responsible for making you drop everything and rush to my side, because for fuck's sakes, Rachel, if you didn't want to be here, you wouldn't be. And if you, by some miracle, still don't, then leave. I don't need you, and I certainly don't need any of this fucking bullshit. This wasn't some goddamn _ploy_ to get you here to talk to me, as though I _planned_ on getting in that fucking wreck and ending up blind, because my life was going just _fine_ and you were the last thing that I could have possibly needed right now, because every time Rachel _Fucking_ Berry enters my life, _everything _I so carefully pulled together falls apart like a goddamn house of cards."

"Like what, all the girls you were sleeping with?"

Her voice was small, but no less accusatory. This wasn't just his fight, that much was obvious at this point. He wished he could see her face, her expression, _anything_.

"Rachel, don't talk about anything you know nothing about."

"How many have there been since me, Jesse?"

Momentarily silenced, Jesse drew in a deep breath, biting his lip as he seriously debated lying to her. "A... lot."

"So," she snapped, "call one of _them_ and have them put you back together if it's so much easier without me here!"

"I... Rachel, they're not like that. I was just _sleeping _with them. There wasn't ever anything more."

"Is that supposed to make me feel _better_?"

"I don't think you realize that I'm not _dating_ you!" he ground out, suddenly hard-pressed to rein in his temper. "You're dating _Finn_, so don't give me _any _of this bullshit like I need a fucking lecture on how to live my life. You're not my fucking mother!"

"Jesse, please!"

It was all he could do to keep from slamming the door in her face when he finally got into the bathroom, barely holding himself up by the counter as he locked the door behind him.

Just shutting the door on her, however, proved relatively pointless far too quickly. It wasn't as if he could block out seeing her in his treacherous mind, all small and frail and fragile, wishing he would just come out of the bathroom.

* * *

><p>It took a good half hour until she even bothered trying the door again, a plate full of her blueberry vegan waffles with powdered sugar on top in her hand, Jesse's favorite, and her specialty.<p>

"Jesse? I made you breakfast. I'm— I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... said what I did. You're right, you know? I do want to be here. And I have no right to dictate how you live your life. I... should have called, or left a note, or _something _after what happened. But I was... scared. And I ran. And I'm sorry. Frankly, I don't even know why you still bother to talk to me, but if you want to, maybe we could... eat this together? It's your favorite from back when we were dating."

It was horrible listening to him struggle as he tried to find the lock and open the door, but finally it swung open, and he offered a small smile.

"You remembered."

"Of course I did," she whispered, nodding, despite knowing he wouldn't be able to see it. Maybe he'd be able to at least _hear _it in her voice. It was already heartbreaking enough watching him watch her. He was doing that thing again— meaning to look at her, and doing poorly, always catching her temple, or just past her face. And what was even worse was that she was beginning to get used to it.

They ate her peace offering in silence right there between the two rooms. It was easier, not bothering to help Jesse up and into the other room, and discomfort aside, it was almost as if they were having a picnic. Still, Rachel wasn't sure what was worse, her justification, or the fact that there had to be one in the first place.

"You know," she finally thought aloud upon finishing her end of the waffle, "you haven't showered since your stay at the hospital."

"So? I'll take one later, or something."

"Jesse, no. You can't. When my daddy broke his arm a couple years back, papa had to go in every time he had to shower to help him not get his cast wet for... weeks. He was terribly irritated by the hold-up, but it was very clearly necessary."

"I can just take a bath and dangle my leg out."

"That's ridiculous. We're doing it my way."

Jesse stopped, all cocky raised brows as he smirked. "_That_ eager to get me naked again already? And here I was hoping to romance you a bit first, wine, dinner, so on. _You're_ just making this too damn easy."

"Jesse, _please_," she huffed, as though talking to a small child, "you're going to be wearing swimming trunks, and that's final. Where are they?"

"Top dresser drawer," he sighed, finishing off his last piece of waffle and propping up his good leg as he leaned against the doorframe.

Getting up, she pulled it open, nosy hands rummaging through his boxers and socks and promptly coming up empty. "I can't find them," she informed him curtly, frowning in his general direction.

"Then I guess we'll have to do without," he shrugged, pulled himself to his feet by the door frame, the corners of his mouth twitching up. "We don't even know that they would fit over the cast, Rachel."

"Ah! Here they are." Pulling out the almost-black garment, she held it up for him to see, before remembering that he couldn't. Suddenly feeling sheepish as she flushed, Rachel shook her head, bringing it over to him. "Here, lean onto me and see if you can put these on."

Just as he'd predicted, they refused to go past the widest part of his cast, and Rachel gave a soft sigh before finally admitting defeat, Jesse grinning shamelessly the whole time, reveling in the fact that he was, once again, right.

"You're already helping me bathe, Rachel. It's nothing you haven't seen before."

And yet— knowing that he couldn't see her, she couldn't help but stare when he pulled his boxers down, leaving him bare.

She hadn't been drunk at first— admission at 18 had still left her with an angry black X on the back of her hand— but Jesse's steady supply of drinks had quickly left her decently tipsy enough to know that she hadn't remembered as much about their night together over spring break as she might have wanted to.

So she stared.

"I assume you meant now? Would you mind running the water?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry," she muttered, flushing horribly as she brushed past him to turn the faucet on. He was far too well-toned; not that that surprised her, all things considered, his performance background speaking for itself. Shutting off the water, she cleared her throat, standing. "Here, I can— help you in."

"Can't we just do what the doctors said and shower? Wrap my cast in saran wrap?"

"That doesn't work, Jesse. My dads tried it. They were left wrapping a trash bag around his arm, and... even that didn't work all that well."

Jesse hissed sharply at the hot water, and Rachel berated herself for not checking the temperature first. Still, it wasn't as much of an ordeal as she'd expected it to be, motor memory seemingly still very much intact when it came to taking baths, and Rachel couldn't help but wonder how many girls he'd taken these with before taking them to his bedroom and sleeping with them.

The thought made her sick with jealousy, sending a fresh new wave of guilt to her throat. She had a boyfriend. She _loved _Finn.

Not that their recent fighting— loud enough to wake Jesse, at times— was indicative of anything good. It wasn't hard to figure out why Rachel was spending too much time staring at Jesse, and he reminded her of those reasons at every plausible opportunity, telling her that she was really only keeping him around to give her an excuse to feel like her conscience was still intact.

And he was right.

It had hit her like a brick, realizing how much Finn was becoming an excuse to swallow down her wants and desires. _Self-defense._

"Okay, now just... leave this here, and—"

"Honestly, Rach, this is a terrible idea. Not to mention that it's going to be kind of difficult for one person."

"I know," she whispered, grabbing the small washcloth off the edge of the tub to soak it, pulling it up and over his back.

"Mm," he muttered, leaning into her touch as his eyes closed, Rachel biting back a shiver.

"Does that feel good, Jesse?"

"Yes," he breathed with a slow nod, as Rachel intensified the pressure from her hands, the washcloth temporarily abandoned as her hands ran over his back and shoulders, biting her lip.

"Do you ever..." Rachel swallowed hard, trying to decide whether it was a good idea to ask in the first place, and yet seemingly unable to stop herself as she watched her hands glide over his skin, "... miss my hands all over you?"

"_Every day_, Rachel, you don't even know." Watching him swallow, Rachel fought against the urge to close her eyes at the feelings coursing through her body, trying hard to ignore them.

"You could have that back," she whispered almost silently, and he stiffened under her touch.

"You're with Finn," he insisted carefully, lips drawn tightly.

"Not right now, I'm not."

"Rachel, _don't_," he warned her sharply through gritted teeth, Rachel's pulling back to pour some body wash into her trembling hands, determined not to look at him as she soaped up the cloth and returned it to his back, taking a deep breath.

"What if I wanted you just as badly as you wanted me?"

"This isn't funny," he breathed, and just for a second, Rachel was tempted to lean in and kiss him.

Speeding up her hand, she took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm not trying to be funny, Jesse. Hold out your arm, so I can—"

"You know what your problem is?" he suddenly snapped, "you want the rollercoaster with all the safety trimmings. It doesn't work that way. You either get what you apparently so desperately need, the safe option that is never going to do anything to scare the living _piss_ out of you and certainly won't ever make you feel alive, or you get what you really want, someone that makes you feel like wanting something is _worth it_. I'm _so sick_ of being your replacement option whenever you want one."

The rest of the bath passed in silence, Rachel knowing full well that if he'd been capable, he would have walked out on her after the discussion. Baths were, quite possibly, one of the worst places to have fights, and Jesse's inability to get around without her help was clearly not helping matters right now, either.

* * *

><p>She'd heard her phone ringing before, but hadn't dared to leave Jesse's side until he was dressed and back on the couch again where she knew he was safe, only then slipping out into the hallway with her phone.<p>

Finn.

Pressing the _redial _button, she felt the knot in her stomach draw together more tightly, anxiously waiting for him to pick up.

"Oh, _now _you call me back. What were you doing for the past half hour, Rach? Sleeping with Jesse, again?"

This again. Rachel's heart sank into her feet, and she fought against the urge to pace. "Finn... it's not like that. If... you can't even trust me if I don't call you back for one second—"

"... then maybe we shouldn't be together anymore," he finished resolutely, knocking the wind out from under her feet.

"Wh-what?"

"This isn't working anymore. Come on, Rach. If you really cared about how I felt, you wouldn't be there right now. You'd be here. And you would have been here on our anniversary. This isn't right, dammit, and I think you know that as well as I do." Hearing him sigh on the other end, he dropped his voice, his tone almost resigned about their relationship. "Or you wouldn't sound so guilty every time we talked on the phone. So... I guess you can stop feeling guilty now, or something."

Rachel stared at the phone in disbelief, the lump in her throat building until she couldn't hold it in anymore, falling back against the wall as she slid down to the floor with a _thud_.

Most of the things in the apartment were hers. She'd have to make time to get to New York and pick those things up, and... what? Leave Finn without furniture? Drop them off at her dads' place? Bring them _here _of all places? Get a new place in New York? She had no way to know when she would be back there in the first place, what with helping out Jesse, and she certainly couldn't drag him there with her. Most importantly, she didn't live here, had no rights to this place at all.

Feeling numb as she reentered the apartment, she cleared her throat to get Jesse's attention, an uncomfortable awkwardness settling over her.

"Do you want to... watch some TV? Or play a game, maybe?"

"Rachel," he said slowly through gritted teeth, and she wanted to choke herself.

"Right. Um... something else then, maybe. That... doesn't require your eyesight."

Content to keep her hands preoccupied with _anything_, she set a teakettle on the stove and began to peel and cut some ginger, silence settling over the room again.

"Could you sing?" Jesse interrupted the silence that had once again settled over them, making Rachel nearly slip and cut her finger as her gaze shot up over her counter.

"What?"

"I'd like you to sing something for me."

"Oh."

As the silence returned, Rachel rifled through her mental list of go-to songs as quickly as she could manage, finally settling on the song that had been in her head for far too long over the past several days, Maria Mena's _I'm On Your Side_.

"_Each confession I make translates to you as an insult_..."

She wished she could have seen his eyes properly as she sang. It was the only place she could ever truly see how he felt, his facial expressions always pulled into a taut showface, shutting out all those around him.

She was the only person around whom she'd ever seen him lose his cool, and that meant more than she cared to admit.

* * *

><p>The remainder of the day had passed in relative normalcy. Rachel had made them lunch, she'd read aloud to him, they'd gone out to run errands, he'd talked with her as she made dinner, and they settled down to a movie that she knew for sure he knew all the images and words to by heart, <em>Cabaret<em>.

"Are you about ready for bed?" she asked, yawning as she lifted her legs off his lap with some reluctance, stretching in her seat before helping him get up and move to the bathroom.

"Mm."

"Are you sure we'll both fit?"

"Last I checked, this was _your _genius idea, Rachel."

"I'm just saying that I really would prefer to avoid encroaching too far into your personal space," she muttered, squeezing toothpaste onto both his and her toothbrushes before handing it off to him.

"Trust me," he scoffed, toothbrush still in hand as he leant against the counter, "I really doubt you can violate my personal space boundaries, Rachel."

"Oh."

They brushed their teeth in silence, Jesse stumbling to the bed on his own, Rachel still intent on going the full two minutes until her cell phone timer alerted her to being finished.

Slipping into bed next to him, she realized just how _close _their proximity felt in a full-sized bed, biting her lip as she regarded the huddled form beside her, already turned away from her.

"I'm not sure that this is enough room, Jesse."

The sigh was audible as he turned to face her. "I've never had a problem fitting anyone else in before, Rachel. I think you'll survive."

That stopped her cold, her eyes going wide. "You've... what do you mean?"

"I haven't shared a bed with someone since I was fifteen, on a family vacation to Tuscany."

"But you just said—"

"They were just fucks, Rachel! They left after. I wasn't about to let them spend any longer in _my_ bed than was strictly necessary. But I never had a problem fitting them in here for their strict purpose. I think you'll survive. If you decide that I'm so _horrible _to fall asleep next to, of course, by all means, go back to the couch."

"N-no," she muttered softly, slipping wordlessly under the covers with a frown. The thought of Jesse sleeping with countless girls here was disarming, and yet she couldn't help the feeling of pride at the thought that she was the only one he'd let in here overnight. _Special_.

They fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed, turned away from each other, but almost as if driven by a gravitational pull, Rachel shifted inward to face him, Jesse turning onto his back until his arm looped around Rachel's waist. Overnight she seemed to turn around in his hands until they were spooning, her leg between his, his good leg wrapped securely, _possessively _around Rachel as though to keep her there, and the arm not wrapped around her midsection had come to intertwine their fingers together.

As Rachel stirred in her sleep, her eyes slowly blinking awake with the sunlight streaming through the blinds of his window, the realization of her position was slow coming.

This reminded her of something.

Finn never held her like this, sometimes waking Rachel up at least twice when he rolled onto his back and began to snore. Her only other long-term relationship— stable, logical, but ultimately boring— had insisted piling pillows between them as a partition, to keep her from kicking him during the night. It had made sense, but it had also hurt.

The night after her first time, on the other hand, had resulted in waking up just like this. Jesse was a cuddler. No matter what, he always managed to wrap his arms around her and keep her close. It made it incredibly difficult to extricate oneself— both now, when this would just be awkward for both of them, and then, when all she'd wanted was to get away as quickly as possible, guilt threatening to drown her.

This morning, fighting her way out of his grasp wasn't worth it.

"Jesse," she muttered softly, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to ignore how good he smelled, how right this felt, how much she loved being in his arms again. This wasn't the right time. Not now, not like this.

"Mm," he breathed, promptly pulling her in closer against him.

"Jesse," she insisted again, louder this time, swallowing hard as she realized what was pressing up against her backside. Now that he'd tugged her flush against him, it wasn't difficult to tell just how hard he was.

"Rachel," he breathed softly, his face nuzzling against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

"Jesse, wake up," she tried again, attempting to loosen his good leg's grip around hers as she squirmed in his grasp.

"What?" It was hardly an awake-sounding question, muttered softly against the skin of the back of her neck as his mind appeared to attempt to register the irritant trying to wake him up from the comforts of their position.

"Jesse, wake up. You're— you're _spooning me_."

There was something about the way that he murmured "_so?" _into her hair that made her wonder whether he wasn't actually awake. Slowly slipping her legs out of his grip, she managed to extricate herself from his cuddling enough to stand and disappear into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Her shirt had ridden up enough to be considered questionable, but not enough to be sincerely incriminating for Jesse's possessive, wandering paws.

By the time she was done in the bathroom— cell phone timer and all— Jesse was sitting up in bed, looking far more irate than he had mere moments before.

"Jesse, what's wrong? I thought you were still asleep."

"Well, I wasn't."

"What do you—"

"You know what? Do me a favor. Call Finn. Tell him how happy he makes you and how much rather you'd be with him. Tell him that any guy would be lucky to have what he has."

It would have been flattering if it hadn't left his lips with such venom. Jesse looked nothing short of murderous, getting his body up as he stalked into the kitchen to find _something _edible that didn't require his eyes to prepare, finally settling on an apple.

"Jesse, that's not—"

"No, that's exactly what it is. Get out of my si— field of hearing. I'm _fine _without you."

"That's ridiculous, you need—"

"I don't need _anybody_!"

"Just like you didn't _need _anyone to make you hydroplane and have that truck run into your piece of shit of a car?"

Jesse looked about ready to kill her, glaring in her general direction over the counter. "That's a _beautiful_ and _extremely expensive_ piece of _shit_, Rachel, and I would keep my mouth _shut_ if I were you, since you have _no_ idea what you're talking about." The _thud _of his fist slamming down onto the counter shook Rachel enough to throw her off guard, stammering slightly.

"W-well, if you had been driving a _Prius_—"

"What, like _you_? Rachel, I would rather be caught _dead _than driving a Prius!"

"Sports cars are a waste of money, and not to mention, absolutely _horrible _for the environment!"

"I had _two_ things that mattered to me before you waltzed back into my life, Rachel, and that was my car, my _baby_, and my career. And now I've lost _both_ of them. I can't see, I can't dance; it's by a goddamn _miracle _that I can still even sing."

"That had _nothing_ to do with _me_!"

"Every time you enter my life you turn it upside down, Rachel! I can handle myself just fine _without you_! I don't need you breaking my heart again!"

There was a long, heavy silence as Jesse seemed to recoil from his slip-up, turning away from her instinctively, Rachel staring at him numbly.

"You're going to a therapist. I'm getting you an appointment as soon as I can," she whispered, swallowing hard, her gaze fixated firmly on the floor. "And I'm _not_ taking _no_ for an answer."


	3. Chapter 3

It was easily the last place he wanted to be; Rachel's fault, again, just like everything else in his life. She'd insisted on the stupid wheelchair for ease of accessibility, knowing fully well that he wasn't adept at using a cane yet, not that he'd ever even bothered to try.

Everything pointed to the fact that he wanted nothing more than to simply ignore the reality that he was blind, that his life and career were summarily over, and that Rachel was back in his life.

She'd always embodied the proverbial thorn in his side, messing up his finely woven plans, laid out so perfectly, all until she came along.

Infiltrating New Directions would have been perfectly all right if she hadn't come along and made him fall for her after breaking his heart.

Coming back for her would have been easy if she hadn't abandoned him the next morning and broken his heart for the second time.

Continuing on with his life would have been _just fine_, sleeping with girls until they wanted more, doing shows and _not _thinking about Rachel, if she hadn't demanded a place back in his life while Finn held a place in hers.

"Are you here for the couple's counseling?"

"No!" Rachel shot out immediately, and Jesse's hands inevitably clenched into fists. "No, um— I'm just here for support and transportation. Jesse was in an accident, it's—"

"Yes," she said slowly, sounding like the very polar opposite of Rachel in the process, "I remember the chart. Jesse, what is it that you'd like to talk about?"

"Maybe you should ask Rachel here, since she seems to be awfully eager to talk. I, frankly, don't see the point of being here."

Rachel stepped in almost instantly, tone defiant. "The doctor recommended—"

"Not everything always has to go the way you want it, Rachel! I'm so sick of you running my life when you obviously don't care about any of it, let alone whether you're even a part of it!"

He could hear the sharp intake of breath that preceded every single one of Rachel's lectures, but it never came, as if the therapist had held up a hand to silence her. If she had, Jesse certainly couldn't see it.

"Jesse, would you say you resent your blindness? Or are you more upset about Rachel's presence?"

"I don't know that I want to talk about this with her in the room."

"Rachel, would you mind leaving us?"

"If— if Jesse wouldn't mind, I'd like to stay," Rachel's voice interjected, suddenly small and meek. It sounded as though she was looking at him when she said it, which made a significant difference. Even if he couldn't see it, she wasn't treating him like a second-class human being.

"Fine." His voice ground out the words sharply, accompanied by a lone nod as a deep breath followed. "But you _need _to stay quiet, Rachel."

"I can... do my best."

Licking his lips, his teeth held onto his lower lip for longer than necessary before he finally went on to say, "I'm obviously upset about losing my career. But _she's _the bigger issue."

"Why would you say that is?"

_Because I'm in love with her._ "Because Rachel feels the need to worm herself into every aspect of my life that's going right so she can ruin it. I was fine without her there before. She likes to lead you on and make you think that she actually cares about you as long as you keep offering her attention. But as soon as that attention so much as wavers even slightly, she's back to her boyfriend. I'm _so _sick of being led on."

* * *

><p>"You don't actually think those things, do you?"<p>

The drive back from the therapist was almost painful, neither of them daring to say anything lest they ruin the momentary, fake peace that had taken hold of them for the time being. Jesse didn't want to talk, because Rachel was the last person he wanted to talk to right now, and Rachel didn't want to spoil the pretense, knowing he likely wouldn't want to speak to her in the first place.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jesse, this is stupid. I'm not leading you on."

"For fuck's sake, Rachel!" he finally bellowed, his first slamming against the passenger seat window, "deciding you _suddenly_ need to sleep in bed with me? Massaging me in the bathtub? Whispering dirty shit in my ear because you _know_ it's going to turn me on? You know _exactly _what you're doing!"

There was a long, pregnant pause as Jesse's now-aching fist returned to thigh. "You just want me to pay attention to you, because it's all you've ever cared about, Rachel. And as soon as you have it, you'll go running back to Finn. Because god, what a fun game! We trapped Jesse again! He's in love all over again, so I guess it's time to break his fucking heart!"

"_Jesse_!"

"_What_?" he snapped, glowering in her direction despite not knowing for certain where he was even looking. It made him feel better— that was all that really mattered in the end.

"Finn and I broke up over two weeks ago."

The silence could have been palpable, thick enough for a knife to struggle getting through it in the first place, and Jesse felt his temper rising in his throat alongside the reluctant hope he wanted _so badly _to crush before its inception in his chest, the car sliding to a stop as Rachel turned off the engine.

"Why the _fuck _wouldn't you tell me that, Rachel?"

"I didn't think—"

"Didn't think that, what? That the guy that pined for you for years and _years_ wouldn't want to know that you finally _broke up with your boyfriend_? After you've been living with him for weeks? What the _fuck_, Rach?"

"Jesse, I don't—"

"No, you know what? You're right. You don't owe me anything, and I _clearly_ don't owe _you _anything, either, Rachel, so I think we're done here."

It would have been a far better exit if he could have actually gotten out of the car without her help. As it was, the fall he took was inevitable, sharply scraping his elbow on the pavement as he hit the ground.

"_Fuck_."

"Jesse—!" The way the car door slammed, the way Rachel's heels pattered across the anxiously ground and around the car to get to Jesse— it was all far too predictable. Jesse itched all over for something more comfortable, something that actually made sense for once. Something that _wasn't _Rachel Berry.

"_Don't_," he ground out, jaw set as he pushed himself up off the ground with his arms, still shaky even as he managed to barely stand with the help of the door handle on the car. "Don't talk to me, don't touch me, and don't you _dare _help me."

It took him half an hour to get to walk a stretch that should have normally taken him two minutes under regular circumstances, but what was important was that he had made it on his own.

What Jesse didn't know was the fact that Rachel had followed him closely, making sure that the elevator was already there when he pushed the button, making sure the door was open to his apartment as he got to it, and making sure that the keys that had fallen out of his pocket got picked up again.

* * *

><p>From that point forward, Jesse began going to therapy on his own, insisting she wait for him outside while he spoke to the woman supposedly "helping" him. Particularly after he would get his cast off, he'd informed her, and even Rachel could tell that Jesse was excited for the date to get here already. The doctor had already delayed it twice, arguing that he wanted to <em>make sure <em>that it was all healed before he removed the cast, that six weeks just wasn't enough for two breaks to fix themselves properly, no matter what Web MD was telling them.

With it finally off, it had taken the arguments of two nurses, one doctor, and Rachel to get him into the wheelchair as she brought him down to the car, and even then she could tell just how excited he was for his leg to be free once more.

"Now I just have to be able to see again, and we'll be back up to speed," he muttered, sounding entirely too optimistic for her tastes as she drove him back to his apartment (despite the fact that it was arguably _their _apartment by this point, really).

"At least let me help you out of the car and upstairs."

"Rachel, I understand that you've been getting your contented little fill of playing my dominatrix nurse as of late, but all good things need to come to an end. I'm going upstairs, and I'll be taking a shower. _On my own_."

It was as though one of his legs had shriveled to about half its former size, former muscles diminished, weak. Her dad's arm had been the same way, and she watched with a frown as he struggled to find his footing upon closing the door.

Finally, silent, not wanting to encroach on Jesse's pride, she simply moved up to slip his arm over her shoulders for support.

He didn't say anything, but he didn't stop her, either.

* * *

><p>"Well? What's the verdict, nurse Berry?"<p>

"Your skin looks kind of flaky and paler than everywhere else. Darker hair. And... pretty much non-existent muscles."

"I figured that was the case," he sighed, flexing his leg as he sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to take a shower, okay?"

"Jesse, it's going to be really easy for you to pull a muscle, and without severely restricted muscle movement, I really don't think—"

"Rachel, I could really do without you molly-coddling me every second of every damn day. I can take a fucking shower by _myself_."

And a part of it, Rachel was damn certain, was simply the fact that having the use of his leg once more was the first step to having his independence, his autonomy back, one less reason to be attached to Rachel every step along the way. Jesse hated to be tied down, and no matter how concerned she was about the potential of him hurting himself, the chance of his pride being wounded if she denied him the right to at least try and shower by himself was far greater.

"Fine."

It was hard enough, watching him struggle to the bathroom— blind or not, his muscles were still despondently weak, and without the support of the counter and the toilet, she wasn't entirely certain that he would have made it.

One second, it was about watching him to make sure he actually got to the shower in one piece without collapsing, platonic, innocent, more worried than anything else.

But with his having reached the shower safely, the next moment suddenly found itself rooted in an entirely different feeling, Rachel swallowing hard as she silently watched Jesse undress. He'd already taken off his pants, but nothing else had followed until now, and Rachel could feel the way her breath seemed to stick in her throat as he slipped out of his boxers, letting them pool at his feet.

It was _just _to make sure that he would be all right. That he wouldn't slip in the shower and kill himself on accident. Really, she could keep coming up with reasons to justify what she was doing, biting her lip as she slid out of her own clothes, gaze still holding on fast to his perfect form, but in the end, it was all Jesse. She couldn't help it.

As the shower turned on, Rachel steeled her resolve, promptly slipping past the curtain and in with him. For just a moment she just watched, unwavering from her position as he stood, the majority of his weight focused primarily on one leg, letting the spray of the hot water wash over his face and down his body.

But when she noticed him reaching for the shampoo and inevitably going for the conditioner instead, she couldn't help but step forward, daring to grab the correct bottle, carefully slipping it into his hand's trajectory until she was sure that he'd reach for the right one.

Realizing that she was tearing up upon watching him took her by surprise, suddenly so much harder to hold back and stay quiet, biting her lip to keep herself from making any undue noise as he washed the shampoo out of his hair.

The silence rang clear as he paused, then, just holding still under the comfort of the water.

"Rachel," he whispered, turning around to face her.

It was only then that he finally lost his footing on his good leg, slipping and barely catching himself with the help of Rachel's support, having rushed forward to hold him up in a sudden flash of panic, her arms wrapping around his back to join once more in the middle of his chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his back, holding him closer.

"I'm not."

Getting to wash him— properly, herself— was as much of a comfort to her instincts as it was a surprise— she would have never expected Jesse to let her, not after everything that had happened, but there it was, her hands slipping over and down his skin to make sure every last bit would end up clean as he held himself up by the support bar on the wall.

And having Jesse return the favor by washing her body, as well, wet hands sliding expertly over her skin with enough intent to make her shiver, almost made all their fighting worthwhile.

* * *

><p>Nothing went said about their shower for another week. Rachel and Jesse had, after all, fallen into a deceptively comfortable routine, and there was no need to mess with their system just because she couldn't stop thinking about him. About how much she wanted him.<p>

The strength in his leg was coming back, and as good as that was, Rachel couldn't help her concern. He was becoming less dependent on her, and, in turn, she was losing her grip on him.

What was she supposed to do whenever he decided that he no longer needed her? That he was okay on his own? When he learned to read Braille and didn't need her there to read to him, the melodic lull of her voice no longer a good enough replacement for independence and fearlessness.

The fear behind _losing Jesse _became unspeakable, the shower too lonely without him there, the slippery, soapy skin moving against hers now seeming more like a distant memory rather than the reality she wanted it to be.

She'd taken to reading to him every night. Watching something with him. Cooking for him. Keeping him busy, entertained, always talking. Anything in the hopes of him, perhaps, changing his mind about her— about keeping her around and not just kicking her out whenever he decided he was done and no longer needed her.

"I was thinking maybe we could listen to the _Wicked _soundtrack and sing along after dinner," she muttered softly, still in nothing but her towel as she brought Jesse a blanket with which to curl up on the couch.

It was getting colder out, the days shorter with every day now. Halloween had come and gone, and Thanksgiving was only a week away. Still, this was Los Angeles, and not New York City. As much as she liked how temperate the springs, summers, and falls were in California, the comfort of the mid-seventies was nothing in comparison to the weather across the continent. She missed the hope of a real winter, the snow, the rain. Winter without snow seemed like a birthday without presents— deprived, starved, lonely. It was no wonder Jesse felt so bereft in this city. It was everything he'd ever grown up with. Everything seemed temperate and beautiful, but there were no real emotions hidden underneath the fake smiles and blind applause.

It had been two weeks ago that Jesse had complained that he wouldn't be able to see the snow regardless, in response to which Rachel had been unable to help her laugh at the thought, grinning widely at him, something she knew he'd be able to hear in her voice. "But you could feel it, couldn't you? On your eyelashes and your tongue and in your heart."

"I think you're a drama queen," he'd joked, and promptly grabbed for the pillow beside him to throw at her. He'd missed horribly, but it wasn't really the point.

Rachel had laughed, and before she knew it, she was dragging him up and off the couch, into her arms to spin him around briefly, just enough to let him catch his footing.

She'd never have expected him to keep going, taking her up into his arms to dance, whispering something into her ear about _what button to press on the stereo on the wall_, filling the room with music and setting her heart on fire as he spun her, twirled her, _made love to her _in dance, Rachel making sure that he didn't run into anything in the process.

Natural. _Perfect._

Now everything felt different from that moment, something out of a perfect picture book in retrospect. It had felt so serene, and yet, even then, she'd been unable to embrace the peace and happiness of the scenery. Jesse, on the couch beside her. Jesse, with a silly grin on her face, laughter echoing around the room.

Her panic over losing him was crippling her enough to keep from noticing where the good had gone, when she'd lost it, or whether they'd ever really had it in the first place.

She'd hidden all of his alcohol, too. Before then, she'd had half the mind to resolutely toss all of it out in one go, but considering the financial investment that amount of wine had to have been, she didn't want to incur Jesse's wrath entirely, just settling for hiding it in the back of one of his bookshelves, the top row, behind the ones where the dust gave away that they went on mostly untouched. It was a silly notion, all things considered, as Jesse was blind, and wouldn't reach for a book in the first place unless he wanted to mope about how he couldn't read the words on the page, but _just in case_, she'd told herself. _Just in case_.

From his spot on the couch, struggling with the blanket she'd tossed him, Jesse cleared his throat. "Maybe."

Moving to sit beside him, Rachel temporarily let go of the towel closure, tucking it in on itself, her breath seemingly stuck in her throat, rebelling against her.

"What if I told you that I was sitting naked next to you right now?" she breathed, staring at Jesse with an expression not even she would have been able to place properly if prompted just then.

It seemed as though Jesse had sincerely tried to hold onto the silence of the moment, deep breath trapping itself in his gaze at the wall. "... are you?"

"No," she whispered, finally tearing her gaze away. "Of course not."

"Of course not," he echoed bitterly, and Rachel had to fight to keep the lump in her throat from coming up in a sharp wave of self-loathing.

It took another two hours until the feeling in the pit of her stomach stirred again, Jesse reaching past her to grab for the blanket once more, only to let his hand stray against her breast, soft, lingering. Not even Rachel could tell whether it was deliberate or not, but if anyone had asked her then, she wanted it to be.

"Jesse," she breathed, swallowing hard as he promptly pulled his hand away as if burned by her.

"I'm blind, Rachel, I wasn't trying to make a move on you." Even as he fell back in his seat, Rachel couldn't stop her own hand from ghosting over the spot he'd lingered on, closing her eyes as a slow breath escaped her.

"What if you were?"

It was hardly even whispered, but Jesse heard every word. "What do you mean?"

"What if I wanted you to?"

"This isn't funny, Rachel," he growled, reaching forward for her hand, and catching her wrist perfectly.

"I'm not trying to be."

For a second, she could have sworn he was looking perfectly into the eyes as though he wasn't _really _blind, could really see her, but it was gone again fast enough that she left it to her imagination.

A moment later, none of it mattered anymore.

* * *

><p>Rachel was everywhere, all at once, his functioning senses culminating together in a veritable feast for him, a sermon for every single thing about her worth worshiping.<p>

She was beautiful, of course, but her voice, her song, her words, her soft sighs and whimpers— they were almost more beautiful. The way she smelled, like jasmine and sometimes lavender, with just the hint of apricot in her hair beneath everything clean and perfect that was Rachel. The way her hand felt in his, small, delicate, like it was tailored to fit there.

Tugging her toward him, Jesse's hand found its way into her hazelnut strands expertly, knowing exactly where to go, how to tug, when to touch as he leaned his forehead against hers.

He'd missed kissing her more than anything, and if nothing else, he knew, _knew_ that he'd rather get the chance to kiss her every day for the rest of his life than live in a world where he could see everything _but _Rachel.

If he couldn't see her, what was there in the world worth seeing?

"This isn't just a game to me, Rach," he whispered, his body aching just to kiss her, hold her, tear her clothes off and make her _his _again.

"I never said it should be."

In a moment, his lips met hers, and she whimpered out loud at the sudden contact, the culminated _need _that burned in him to kiss her, hard, his hands cupping her face as though he could see what he was doing.

But no one needed to _see _to do this right.

Pushing her back against the couch, thanking his lucky stars for his newly rebuilt leg strength, Jesse groaned out loud, his hands raking down her body as he untied the towel from the way she'd wrapped it around her, half the mind just to tear.

But she deserved _epic romance_, so his fingers remained fastidious, slow, leaving a trail of kisses to follow on her leg.

What he couldn't see, he would explore with his mouth. _Feel _his way along her body.

"Rachel," he choked out, dragging the panties she'd put on down and off her body, leaving her naked and exposed to his touch. Not a hair's breath would go uncharted, not on his watch. Being unable to appreciate her by sight, he'd make up for every last bit of it with his hands, tongue, lips.

She'd always had a sensitive neck, Jesse going straight for her weak spot as his hands trailed lower over her breasts, massaging, kneading, claiming them as his own as he worked what would likely become a rather sizeable hickey in due time onto her neck with a groan against her skin. Rachel moaned, encouraging his fingers to quest lower, past the slight, softly splayed out indent along her hip where the hem of her panties dug into her skin just enough to leave a mark.

Exploring by _touch_.

The soft dip of her skin at her hip earned a kiss, his mouth daring to follow the journey his hands were taking over her skin, finally reaching the apex of her body, fingers playing at the folds of her mound, too inquisitive for their own good.

"I can smell you, Rachel," he breathed through her whimpers, leaning in to gently nip at the skin of her inner thigh. "You're intoxicating. It's like I'm getting drunk off you."

"Jesse," she whimpered hotly, bucking her hips up in response to his mouth, finally allowing himself to lick a hot stripe up her entrance, up, up, _up _until he finally found her clit, suckling softly, licking, alternating whatever he found had her squirming the most under him, watching her come undone.

Stopping just before she finished— or sounded as though she might, Jesse pulled back, up her body again, kissing her hard into the cushions of the couch with another moan.

"You're overdressed," she complained.

She was right. Making quick work of the problem, Jesse was suddenly reminded of just how wonderful it felt to press up against Rachel, naked, not a single barrier to come between them. The shower had been too wonderful for words to express.

Now, not even water could come between them, Jesse's fingers daring to slip between their bodies and inside hers, pumping in and out at a heady pace as Rachel came unraveled underneath him, her whimpers quickly escalating, feverish, needy.

"I can feel you clenching around me, Rachel. Your body, it's— it wants me. You feel— _amazing_."

"Jesse, _please_," she begged, small hands tugging his body back up to come face to face with hers once more. "I need— more. Please, I can't—"

"Yes," he groaned, letting his finger abandon its quest for torture, and instead aligning himself at her entrance and pushing in with one long thrust, burying him deep inside of her.

"_Rachel_—"

It was almost too much, buried to the hilt inside his soulmate, knowing, for once, that she wanted this just as badly as he did, that this was really, truly, completely where he belonged.

"M-move—"

The choked command was more than enough for Jesse, who didn't need to be told twice as he shifted his body atop hers to push in and out of her in slow, languid, fluid strokes, angling himself to go deeper with every thrust until Rachel was crying out, moaning every time he pushed inside of her.

"I— oh my god, I want you, Jesse. Want you to g-give to me—"

It was going to be a damn challenge holding on if she kept talking like that, Jesse burying his face in the crook of her neck, free hand reaching down to touch her, thumb insistent upon her clit, fully intent on getting her off, here, now, while he thrust inside of her.

"Jesse, look at me. I don't care if you can't see me, just— look at me, _please_."

"Oh god, Rachel," he groaned, opening his eyes, Rachel gently grasping the sides of his face, directing him to look at her.

His thumb sped up, relentless.

"_O-oh_!"

Her sudden orgasm was as unexpected for him as it was for her, but the pulsing around his cock was enough to send him over the edge, tucking her closer to him as he spilled inside of her with another groan. Birth control aside, nothing compared to the feeling of claiming _his _woman like this.

"Fuck, Rachel," he groaned with a pant, holding her close as he gently nuzzled at her shoulder.

There was a long pause as they rested against each other, everything perfect even if just for a brief moment, the rise and fall of Rachel's chest against him almost enough to make him fall asleep like this, tucked against her perfectly.

"Can we— can we go to bed? I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you," she finally whispered some eons later, stirring slightly in his arms, Jesse almost unable to keep himself from dragging her off right then.

It wasn't until fifteen minutes later, both of them safely tucked under the covers, Jesse's leg wrapped protectively around both of Rachel's, that sleep overtook them both. And for once, Jesse wouldn't even have complained of insomnia.


	4. Chapter 4

_Slightly shorter than the rest, but the end of this part acts as a very natural break for the story, so I figured I wouldn't keep you guys waiting any longer than strictly necessary. After all, you've waited enough! :3_

* * *

><p>Until about 5am, Jesse slept soundly.<p>

He was still tired when he woke, but sleep seemed as far out of his reach as ever. Afraid to toss and turn lest he disturb the dreaming angel lying beside him, he found himself content to just hold her as she laid, tangled half in his sheets, half in him.

Last night still felt as much like a dream as ever, and Jesse couldn't help the way his stomach seemed to constrict at the thought of their actions.

He'd meant it, of course, when he'd said that he felt certain that his sex life was over now. But she'd wanted him. After all her protesting any hope for a relationship between the two of them, _she'd_ wanted _him_.

Why?

Was it that easy for her to pity him? Was that all he'd been? A pity-fuck?

The thought was infuriating enough to drive him out of bed, all thoughts of wishing he could keep Rachel from waking up because of any undue disturbance out the window. It was much easier getting around now without his cast, even without his vision, and he'd managed to, through careful taste-testing of whatever he was picking up, even figure out what he was eating most of the time.

In this instance, however, the carton of orange juice did just fine as a morning companion, Jesse content to hop up onto the small kitchen counter to brood. The only thing that was missing from it was vodka, and he certainly wasn't about to go searching, not only for his collection, but the right one out of the mixture, as well.

Why would Rachel do this to him? Lead him on for weeks and finally decide that she pitied him enough to sleep with him? Why wait until after he'd been rid of his cast? If he'd never drawn her attention to the fact that he knew she was in the shower with him, would she have done anything? Had he not fallen, would she have pressed herself up against him, washed him, let him do the same for her?

"... what are you doing up?"

"Nothing."

She was by his side almost instantly, her voice sounding just as concerned as he imagined her face to look. "What's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong? What's so _unbelievably _wrong with me being by myself?"

"I just thought..."

The silence from his end spoke for itself, Jesse leaning against the wall behind him, jaw set, staring at nothing. Being angry with the world was so much less effective when you couldn't look it straight in the eyes, stare it down, nitpick at every last flaw there was.

This wasn't fair.

"Do you... want some breakfast, Jesse?"

"I don't know!" he snapped at her, jumping off the counter, "don't I normally want breakfast? What's so different about _today_?"

"Jesse, please."

"_Please_ what, Rachel? _Please_ don't ever fucking touch me again? _Please_ don't ever mention to anyone that I dared to sleep with you? _Please _just leave whenever Finn comes over so I can sleep with him instead?"

"Jesse!"

"I'm so sick of being led on by you, Rachel!"

"I'm not leading you on!"

"Just- leave, okay? Please?"

It wasn't until the door to the bathroom slammed and he heard Rachel's choked sob escape her that the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach really began to set in and take hold, guilt threatening to choke him.

Running an agitated hand through his hair, the sound of Rachel's cries tore at his heartstrings hard enough to make him ache until he simply stepped out into the hallway to sink to the floor.

He shouldn't have cared this much, and he wanted, more than anything, to hate Rachel for it. But that was a pipedream, his own self-hatred engulfing any last hope of there being room for her.

* * *

><p>Jesse could picture her, of course, all sniffles and tissues and tear-stained, blood-shot eyes. But he didn't have to look at her, and that made it all the easier to just ignore all of it, ignore that it ever happened.<p>

By the time she left the bathroom, he'd returned to bed, pretending to be asleep. He'd hoped, so desperately, that she'd wrap her arms around him from behind, snuggling up and falling asleep like that, but she loyally stayed on her end of the bed, as though afraid to touch him at all. For the first time since she'd started sleeping in his bed, they didn't wake up tangled.

* * *

><p>Over the next several weeks, things had settled into a tense routine once more, the two of them coexisting more than anything else. The magic had left them, the spark that had driven them to dancing in the middle of the room, to sharing not only their bed together, but their bodies with each other, melding into one perfect being in their love-making.<p>

_Not _touching him was soul-wrenching.

"I was right, you know," he muttered softly under his breath over the lasagna she'd made for both of them, causing Rachel's head to snap up.

"Right about what?"

"That no one would fuck a blind guy willingly."

Her chest tightened at his words, and she frowned at her plate. "Jesse-"

"I read this article about how a woman married a blind man upon being bribed to do it. For a pretty good sum of money."

_That _line of conversation she hadn't been expecting.

"I'm sure that other blind people wouldn't mind marrying a blind person. Besides, it would be sweet if they found each other."

That earned a chuckle. "What are the odds of two blind people _finding each other _in the first place?"

He was grinning at her, but Rachel felt frozen in her spot. Was she supposed to laugh? It was funny, but at the same time, it was offensive enough that he might become upset if she did.

On the other hand, he was outrightly laughing by now.

It was the most wonderful sound she'd ever heard, she was certain of it. It had been far too long.

A soft, happy noise escaping her, she reached forward to grab his hand, tears getting the better of her. "You're- you're getting _better_, Jesse."

"Couldn't have my mom's generous stipend money funding my therapy bill going completely to waste, right?"

"Jesse," she whispered happily through a haze of tears as she moved forward to let her arms wrap around him, holding him close. He smelled of everything clean and wonderful- freshly washed clothes airing out on a warm summer day, and the faint lingering scents of cedar, and pines.

In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to pull back and kiss him, take him to bed, make love to him, be happy together. Forever.

So she pulled away, lump in her throat seemingly stuck there permanently now.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Jesse heard Rachel come in, the door closing behind her with a slightly <em>thud <em>as he shifted in his seat, expression terse. "You're being awfully quiet."

"So," he started slowly, drumming his fingers rhythmically against the tabletop. "Guess what I found today."

"... what?"

She sounded wary enough that it felt downright gratifying in his chest, though the ultimate payoff was nonexistent. It still hurt. All of it. Being betrayed had always left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he fought to keep his jaw even just slightly relaxed as he glared at the table, pulling the offending object out of his pocket and letting it slam onto the table.

"I know what a pregnancy test feels like, Rachel. When, exactly, had you been planning on telling me that you were pregnant?"

"I-I- I'm not pregnant, Jesse."

Clenching his teeth, he felt all of the air in his lungs leave him at once, glaring at her with more bitterness than even he was used to.

"I... I skipped a period, and I just thought I'd make sure. It was just a scare, that's... that's all."

"And you didn't think that this was something I might want to know about?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't think it would matter to you! Like you'd care!"

"Why the _fuck _wouldn't I care, Rachel?"

The venom was back in an instant, visions of his past making himself known with a vengeance as he fought back the urge to hit things.

"Jesse, we only had sex one time before you suddenly refused to touch me again! Like I'd... infected you, or something! Don't you think that _hurt_? Didn't you think that night _mattered _to me?"

"I _will not _be your pity fuck, Rachel!"

Rachel's voice had always held a shrill quality to it when she got angry, one that set him on edge and made it far too easy for him to start bellowing at her, anger bubbling forth like from a wellspring, contained for far too long to still be healthy. Therapy was fixing a lot of things. But it was never going to be able to fix _Rachel _for him.

"Is that what this is about? You think I wanted you just because you were _blind_ and I felt _sorry_ for you? You _asshole_! I'm in love with you!"

In retrospect, Rachel's decision to chuck a pillow at his head was a mistake, Jesse moving to catch it with surprising grace as his reflexes guided him.

For a moment, everything was silent, Jesse staring at the pillow in abject horror as Rachel, unblinking, seemed frozen in disbelief.

"N-no, that's not..."

"Rachel-"

"You- you're-"

"_Don't_."

The warning seemed to be enough of an indication, Rachel slowly shaking her head as she stared at him, not wanting to really believe that he'd lie to her about something this huge.

"You know... I-I kept thinking I was going crazy. Thinking that- that you were actually looking at me after _months_ of _nothing_, never quite hitting where you meant to. But then we had sex that night and it took me a second to realize through my _stupid, desperate_ haze of... wanting it so badly but not being able to being myself to actually believe that you were _lying_ to me-" her voice cracked with the weight of a sob, and she found herself staring at the wall, like some kind of karmic retribution for his ability to look at her now, unwilling to meet his gaze. He couldn't feel his feet anymore, everything seeming to go numb as he stared back at her. "You should have _told me_. We could have been _happy_ together and celebrated that it was coming back, but instead you... _barricade_ yourself in and away from me and betray me like that and make me wonder why I _ever_ thought I could trust you again just like that- I can't believe you'd lie to me about this for so long and then get mad at me when I didn't tell you that I _skipped a period_?"

"It was more than that, I-" her being pregnant was both of their issues, no matter how much she wanted to make this about herself alone. His health was another story. "I didn't want to be wrong, Rachel! For fuck's sake, how the hell was I supposed to know that it was going to stick? For all I knew, I was going right back to where I just came from! I didn't want to get _either _of our hopes up!"

"It's not about hoping! It's about telling a doctor so he can see if he can make it stick! What if it had gone back to the way it was before, _just _because you didn't get help?"

It was a fair point, but it didn't do much to help the sickening feeling in his stomach. He couldn't have told her. Couldn't have let himself hope for something like this.

"Who says I didn't go to the doctor, hm?"

"By yourself? Jesse, I know where you are twenty-four hours of the day, seven days a week," she whispered quietly, trying hard to keep her rage contained. But that was the whole issue. Who was she to keep him cooped up? Tell him what to do? He was a grown man, and Rachel wasn't his mother.

"I could have walked."

"No, Jesse. You couldn't have."

"So what, you get to control where I am and what I do, and yet I can't even be graced with a goddamn _heads-up_ telling me that I might be a _dad_?"

He'd expected her to be so much more upset, so much more livid- not for her to turn from him, take a deep breath, and attempt to control her emotions. Was this what all of this was really about? The goddamn _baby_?

"It's not like you would have cared, Jesse."

It stung so much worse than it should have, Jesse feeling as though she'd just torn his heart out of his chest.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Jesse, you... I never even thought you'd _want _to be a father. It's not like your dad set a good example. You- you hate him. Your whole family is... a mess. You would have probably had a panic attack. And your relationship with your mom, I mean-"

"Rachel," he ground out slowly, not sure that he could hold himself together, not sure that he really wanted to anymore. "You have _n o_idea what you're talking about."

"You won't tell me _anything_! First, I thought it was just the thing with your mom, or your... endless brooding because you were still getting over how bitter and angry you were, but now I find out that you've been lying to me about _this_? That you can _see me_? Jesse, you can't tell me that that would be a good thing to base a relationship on, let alone a _family_!"

"I think you should leave."

"If I do that, I'm packing my bags, and I'm never coming back, Jesse."

What was he supposed to say to that? He wanted, so badly, to go back to that place they'd been earlier, Rachel shouting at him that she was in love with him, to kiss her and forget what an asshole he'd been this whole time. But the words refused to come out, Jesse staring at her through still muddied, clouded eyesight as he fought to verbalize what he wanted to tell her.

_I love you. Please don't go. I need you. I can't imagine my life without you anymore._

Why did those things have to be the ones hardest to say?

"Fine," she whispered, shaking her head as she stared at the floor, looking broken. "Fine. I'll- I'll just go then."

The next half hour passed in complete silence between them, Jesse just waiting for the door to slam.

Now that he could see again, even just slightly, the last thing he wanted to have to watch was this. So he kept his eyes closed, just waiting for the sound that would signal his inevitable return to loneliness, a well-worn, comfortable place that he knew too well.

And yet, somehow that didn't help the heartbreak of hearing her break apart with the weight of a sob after she'd finally shut the door on him like he deserved.


	5. Chapter 5

_See, guys, this is the part where I curse my decision to put something up on here before it's totally done! I apologize for the wait, but— hey, this is it! The end! So before I delve into that, apparently Chapter 4 required some clarification, so let's review what happened- Jesse thought Rachel just slept with him out of pity, they stopped fucking, Jesse started getting more psychologically sound/adjusting to his condition, Rachel is late for her period, worries, takes a pregnancy test, Jesse finds it, accuses her of not telling him that she's pregnant, Rachel corrects him and tells him that she's **not** pregnant, he tells her about his pity fuck worries, Rachel confesses that she loves him and chucks a pillow at him, Jesse **catches** said pillow, proving that his condition has been improving and that he can see a little now, Rachel gets pissed that he didn't tell her, throws all kinds of shit out there about his family and how he'd be a terrible fathers, and when she threatens to leave, he lets her walk out, and it's just ALL VERY BAD. Anyway, with that, I give you, the end!_

* * *

><p>Six months after their fight marked the opening night of her Broadway debut, Rachel squealing in delight over her own dressing room and the undetermined end date of their show.<p>

That night, everyone that really mattered to her showed up to support her. Her dads, Mr. Schue, Shelby, the whole glee club, ready to welcome her at her stage door with applause, flowers, and reservations at her favorite restaurant.

There was only one person missing.

It wasn't until approximately two months later, Rachel signing autographs at the stage door, bright smile on her face as she took pictures and spoke with her fans, that he finally made _his _debut.

"Your performance was just incredible! I've seen the show three times, and—"

Rachel had gotten used to the flowers fairly quickly, as any true star ought to have, but here, now, it meant that it inevitabely took her far longer to recognize him in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the stage door, all the rest of her costars having cleared out by now.

"Can we have a picture?"

"I—"

In an instant, Rachel froze, eyes wide as she stared, momentarily dumbfounded by his presence for a split second before realizing her mistake, blinking to tear her gaze off of him and return her attention back to the playbill she'd been signing.

"I, um. Sure. Here. Big showface smile!"

There were only a couple of fans left that had patiently waited their turn, and Rachel still wasn't sure whether or not to avoid the confrontation of looking at him, or to keep letting her gaze loiter back to him just as her eyes seemed to be insisting upon her doing, especially now that his head was poking out over the what had to be at least two dozen white roses.

Her mind was racing quickly enough that focusing on her signature alone was becoming necessary, trapped between thoughts of the here and now, how far she'd come, and _on her own_, no less— and six months ago, something almost like happy, with him.

Had he been lonely? Sequestered himself off from the world? Another brief glance offered evidence that he was, indeed, not hiding a cane, only sending her thoughts careening further. Did this mean that his sight had returned fully? And if so, why was he here? The only reason he'd kept her around, _needed _her, had been his impaired vision.

At least that had been what she'd told herself for the months following her move back to New York. Reasoning, rationalizing others actions— it had always been a particular specialty of hers.

But this wasn't something about which she could have possibly been wrong. She'd told him she'd loved him, and he'd let her go in spite of that. So why would he be here now? Why would he want to be?

Finding herself lost without another playbill to sign in lieu of talking to him, Rachel froze, awkwardly clearing her throat as she straightened and stuffed her sharpies back into their holders inside her bag.

"Hi Rachel. Your performance was flawless, as always. Not that I'm surprised. But... it's good to see you again."

A long, terse moment hung heavy in the air as she slowly turned to look up at him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

"No, I'm serious. I haven't _seen _you in years, not... properly, anyway."

Hearing him sigh, she shrugged. "Shouldn't matter, right? I'm not your girlfriend."

"Is that your way of telling me that you have a boyfriend and I have no business being at your stage door with a bunch of roses? Let me guess... back with Finn again."

Glowering at him, she shrugged once more, noncommittal. She wasn't— had stayed single the whole time since their— whatever that had been— but that hardly mattered in this context; he deserved to be put on edge, made to be jealous.

"So what if I am?"

"Two options." Cheeky bastard. "I'd either call you a liar, or, on the off chance that you're not a liar, I suspect it wouldn't take me a great deal of effort to persuade you to change your mind."

"... what makes you so sure?"

"Most girls who are proud of the relationship they're in will list it on facebook."

Jesse had the audacity to actually _wink _at her then, Rachel huffing bitterly. And he was right, of course.

But he'd been the one who had let her go, not the other way around.

"You did that on purpose. _Stalker_."

Chuckling softly, he shrugged. "Maybe I did." There was a long pause as he finally pushed free from the wall, charming and cocky and seeming just as much of an asshole as always.

She couldn't help but wonder, puzzle over him, now that she could see him a bit better, illuminated by the light streaming in between the buildings. Had he had lovers? Had he tried to do without her— emotionally, not physically— and failed? Why was he here— why _now_?

"I, uh, found where you hid my booze. Behind... the bookshelf. Very clever." He stayed quiet for a long moment, Rachel holding her breath as she watched him, almost terrified of what he'd say next, and how much of it was really her fault. "Let's just say it was a long six months, Rachel."

"Yes, well," she shot back, swallowing thickly through the feelings rising in her throat like bile, trying to, fighting to keep them at bay. "You're a little late. I'll have you know that I was stupid enough to hope you'd be in that audience on my opening night two months ago."

"Who says I wasn't?"

If he thought he could play an elaborate game of cat and mouse with her, he was bitterly mistaken.

"Fine. Then what's so special about tonight that you're suddenly here?"

"It's the anniversary of my accident," he laughed hollowly, and suddenly, everything snapped into place for Rachel. "I guess I just thought it'd be appropriately cathartic. Make myself suffer for a while for making you suffer through dealing with me."

"You could have come after me," she whispered, slowly shaking her head, wishing she could figure him out, answer all the questions she'd held pent up for months on end now.

"No, I needed to get better first. Therapy, right? You always liked that option."

She had. But then again, she'd always thought that a part of his recovery would inevitably be her presence in his life. Knowing he'd managed to get better without her hurt far more than she'd expected it to, her frame seeming to draw in on itself as she wrapped her arms protectively around her chest.

"Being blind... made me want to hate everything I could hear. _Especially _you. I thought that if I... tried hard enough to shut you out, that you'd... leave before you realized that I never deserved you in the first place. My therapist called it a highly ineffective defense mechanism that only served to reinforce my low opinion of myself. I mean," he laughed, sounding a bit bitter, "it worked, right? I pushed you away. Lost everything that ever mattered to me. Just because I was terrified of losing you. It's the most terrible logic anyone could come up with."

But then again, hadn't that been the exact reason she'd been so terrified of his getting better? It was selfish, stupid, caring more about herself than his recovery.

"But, um. You— you got better."

"Yeah. Physically and emotionally. All better. Well— physically, all better. Emotionally... still working on that one. I guess you could say I'm missing a piece of myself before that can really happen."

"And what's that?"

Even before he finally stepped forward to slowly trail his hand up and cup her cheek, letting his fingers gently tuck her hair behind her ear— she already knew what he's going to say, her heart racing a little bit at the thought.

"It's always been you, Rachel."

"No, I— I need to hear you say it."

He took a deep breath, letting his gaze drop to the asphalt with a sigh. "I love you, too. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you that six months ago."

"Even though I—" Her gaze fell to her abdomen just briefly, blinking up at him with big eyes as she bit her lip.

"We both made mistakes. We just need to forgive each other for that." Sighing softly, he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, Rachel letting out a slow breath as she let her eyes close. This was nice, peaceful. Jesse wasn't angry anymore, and even as she felt lost in the wake of this new, far more temperate attitude, it was almost nice.

On the other hand, remembering how she'd felt about him half a year ago was far more terrifying than she cared to admit, small hands coming up to tangle in the material of his front, keeping him close.

"You didn't say," he whispered quietly, his breath hot against her face. "Do you still love me?"

This was the part that scared her the most, that she was still just as crazy for him as she'd always been, refusing to meet his gaze even as she slowly nodded. "Of course I still love you."

* * *

><p>Rachel only living a handful of blocks from the theatre had not been something he'd counted on, but now, strolling down Broadway with her, he was more than a little grateful she hadn't just turned him away.<p>

"I was... terrified that the only reason you even kept me around was because of your... condition."

The confession seemed to have come from out of nowhere, and Jesse slowed down a bit as he frowned, turning to face with her with a careful nod. "... yeah. I was sure that's why you were even bothering to stick around in the first place. And then you wonder why I didn't want to tell you I was getting better."

"... I'm sorry."

They walked in silence for a while, Jesse casting the occasional glance in her direction.

"What would you have done? If you had been pregnant?"

"Had an abortion," Rachel muttered softly under her breath, staring down at her shoes.

"Seriously."

"Yeah, seriously."

"_Why_?"

"You keeping me around because I'm pregnant is even worse than because of your condition, Jesse! I was never your responsibility, and you never signed up for a _baby_ when I moved in with you! Between all the lies and the trust issues and the jealousy— how could you _possibly_ expect me to think a _baby _would be a good idea?"

"What lies? Other than the shit with my sight, Rachel, because that's getting old _really _fast," he growled, grabbing her arm to whirl her around to face him, stopping them in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Your family! Jesse, you can't pretend whatever is going on there is normal— and you wouldn't breathe a _word _of it to me."

"That's because it's private!" he hollered, looking furious.

"Then I guess I'm going home on my own!" she shot back, starting to walk again, briskly, as he chased after her to grab hold of her wrist.

"Rachel— wait."

A terse silence took hold of them as Rachel moved her arm free of his grip, crossing them in front of her chest with a pointed glare. "All right," she mused slowly. "Tell me."

Jesse stared at her long and hard for a moment before sighing in defeat.

"This is kind of a long story, Rachel."

"I don't care."

"One that's much better suited to a bottle of wine and the comforts of a couch."

"Right here," Rachel insisted, tone unwavering. "Or not at all."

"Fine."

Walking them over to a small ledge at the side of an office building, Jesse sat as best as he could, staring up at the stars with a sigh.

"For a little while when you disappeared after our first time, I stayed in Ohio. To wait for you to come around. Not that it worked out all that well, but— long story short, my parents hate you. Always have. And after they came to the conclusion that I'd somehow _cured myself _of the affliction that is Rachel Berry, they decided to set me up with a girl who couldn't have been more different from you. You know, tall, model thin, blonde, blue eyes, big tits, no brains, wealthy, upstanding family— her parents were friends with mine since forever— the most Caucasian-looking nose you'll find absolutely anywhere... anyway." He shrugged lamely, sounding just as tired as he looked, for once.

"I mean, if only for the sake of my parents, I really did try my best with— Tiffany was her name— but I just— god, Rachel, it's always been you. But... I pretended. For a while. Made my mom happy, anyway, and it certainly took my mind off of you, for once."

Jesse sighed, staring out into the night sky as he leant his head back, not paying any mind to the passersby. "I was going to say that we'd dated for about half a year, but I'm not sure you can really call it dating. We didn't have anything in common except for the fact that our families were both rich and influential. But it was enough for my mom, who, after that half year, decided it would be a phenomenal idea to give me her old engagement ring and a trip to France for two. And... I blew it." He offered a small, humorless chuckle. "Tossed the ring into a fountain halfway through the speech she'd prepared _for _me, told Tiff to enjoy the rest of her time in France alone, called my mother and told her to go to hell, and booked a ticket straight home to get my affairs together before moving out. And... I guess you could say we've been on pretty lousy terms since then."

All the air seemed to leave his lungs all at once as his shoulders sagged, hand shoved deep into his pockets. Silence reigned trump for a while before Rachel finally spoke again, swallowing hard, her voice quiet.

"... I think you'd make a great dad."

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she heard him let out a short breath of a laugh before she slowly felt him take her hand to interlace their fingers. "I'm glad you think so."

* * *

><p>"What is this?" Jesse smiled, swirling the wine in his glass more out of need for something to do with his hands than anything else.<p>

"Good, isn't it?" Rachel grinned, kicking the fridge shut with her foot before moving to the couch to pat the seat beside her, her own glass in hand. "Vintage 2009 virgin chardonnay."

"It's almost like Rachel Berry has _taste_," he laughed, crossing one leg over the other after taking a seat beside her on the loveseat. "This is a really nice place, actually. Was this...?"

Rachel took a moment to catch onto what he was referring to, whether or not this had been hers and _Finn's _place before she'd moved in with him, tainted somehow, and she promptly shook her head.

"No, no, this— this is mine. I... moved in with Kurt and his boyfriend for about a month after to give plenty of time to apartment hunting, since I didn't want to end up with just any place only because I _needed _it, you know. But, no, you're right. I do like it a lot. Location pretty much couldn't be more perfect..."

Jesse took a long, slow breath before downing the rest of his wine and refilling both their glasses. "My, um... my lease is up in two weeks. I have a couple of friends in town who could probably take me in while I go look for my own place, but..."

"Move in with me," she whispered softly, expression about as anxious as she felt saying those words.

"... really," Jesse breathed, staring back at her, the moment feeling suspended in mid-air.

"Really."

"I... think I'd really like that."

Talking to each other felt as normal and natural as ever— almost as though she'd never left him in the first place, as if he'd never been blind, angry, resentful of the world and her.

So when he set down first her wine glass, and then his, she already knew what to expect. Leaning in to softly cup her cheek, Jesse's gaze roamed hungrily over every feature of her face, almost as though it was his first time really seeing her.

"You are _so _unbelievably beautiful," he whispered softly, letting his forehead rest against hers before slowly leaning in to kiss her again.

Whimpering hotly against his lips for more, Rachel made no move to stop him as he picked her up, swiftly carrying her by the curve of her ass into the bedroom.

She couldn't help but moan, Jesse's fingers digging greedily into her skin as he kissed her, hard.

"Jesse—"

"Shhh, I've got you," he muttered softly into her hair, laying her down flat on the bed and crawling up over her, his hands running her shirt up as they roamed over her torso, desperate to feel her again, to do this with her again now that he could see every inch of her skin where the soft pads of his fingers were exploring.

Sighing as he lifted her shirt up over her head, shaky hands finding the clasp behind her back to undo her bra closure as he tugged her pants off of her, Rachel couldn't help but think that this would finally be their first time back together again for the last time, never wanting to miss him again.

Tugging his shirt over his head, Jesse slipped out of his slacks and had them both down to nothing but their underwear in no time. Kissing a slow trail of kisses down her front— pausing briefly only to suckle and worship at her breasts— dragging her panties off of her, he slowly spread her legs and leaning in to lick at her core, tongue occasionally slipping lower to fuck her, slowly, agonizingly torturous.

"Jesse, oh god!"

Tearing at his hair had no effect to make him any faster, but when he finally acquiesced to her request to fuck her with his fingers as he sucked dutifully at her clit, there was nothing she could have done to stop the inevitable orgasm coursing through her, a low moan trapped in her throat as her hips bucked up, helpless to him.

"It's even better when I get to see you, watch you come," he muttered softly as he worked his way back up her body, stroking himself once, twice, before settling between her legs. "God, baby."

Gathering her up into his arms, he moved to sit cross legged, pulling her into his lap and motioning for her to wrap her legs around his torso, grabbing her hips and slowly letting her sink down on top of him, their foreheads pressed together as she moaned into his mouth. "I don't want to miss a _second _of this, of you and your face," he whispered desperately into the sensitive skin of her neck, kissing her, suckling at her as they moved together as one.

It felt like a dance of intimacy, Rachel wrapped up in Jesse as he made love to her, soft, slow, sweet. He didn't dare close his eyes even once, whispering softly to her that he didn't want to— _couldn't_— look away from his perfect angel now that he had her back.

He made sure she came first, her pulsing around him sending him bucking up into her with a groan, and they stayed like this, tangled up in each other for a good while— at least until Rachel could feel him slipping out of her, forcing her off of him to clean them both up with some reluctance, far too eager to return to him as quickly as possible.

If someone had told her a year and a day before that she'd be falling asleep in Jesse's arms, tired, happy, and more in love than ever before, she would have never believed them.


End file.
